


I want you (an addiction)

by blackkat



Series: useless porn scraps [39]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Chair Sex, Desk Sex, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Hokage Asuma, Humor, M/M, Missing-Nin Hidan, PWP, Rough Sex, Teasing, kind of, slight roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 21:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20712992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “Well,” Asuma says as Hidan is shoved to his knees in front of him. “This is a surprise.”





	I want you (an addiction)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Squiggly_lines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squiggly_lines/gifts).

“Well,” Asuma says as Hidan is shoved to his knees in front of him. “This is a surprise.”

“Watch if, you shitty fucker!” Hidan snarls at his captor, not even able to spare a glance for the new Hokage. He kicks at a kneecap, gets a kunai pressed against his throat in response, and freezes.

“We caught him sneaking in,” the ANBU holding Hidan there says coldly, and shoves his head down a little. “Genma and Raidō are checking for more assassins. I can take him to T&I—”

“That won't be necessary, Kakashi,” Asuma says, and rises from behind his desk, abandoning the Hokage's robes where they're draped over the back of his chair. “Leave the prisoner with me and take the rest of the day off.”

Hidan, just about to yell at Asuma for not fucking _telling him_ that his guards are all assholes, stops short and closes his mouth. A little warily, he casts a look at him, but there's no overt sign of mind control. If anything, that face is _smug_, the edge of a smirk curling Asuma's mouth, and Hidan feels his breath catch. Closes his mouth, and watches Asuma's smirk sharpen around the edges.

“Sir?” Kakashi sounds like he can't decide whether to be alarmed or suspicious, and Asuma snorts.

“I remember how to interrogate someone,” he says dryly. “Go. And take Iwashi with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Kakashi murmurs, and steps back. He doesn’t untie Hidan's wrists, but he leaves, and Hidan can hear the thump as the door falls shut behind him.

There's a moment of silence, and then a step. Another, and Hidan lifts his head, watching as Asuma reaches out. the sudden, tight grip of a hand in his hair makes him suck in a breath, and when Asuma drags his head back he can't fight a grin.

These moods Asuma gets into are fucking _great_. Hidan's definitely a fan.

“Assassin, was it?” Asuma asks, just a little dry, but his dark eyes are hot as he studies Hidan's face. “Coming for the new Hokage?”

Hidan laughs, tugs at Asuma's fist and shivers when there’s no give. “I can _come_ for you if you want,” he says, licks his lips just to watch Asuma follow the motion. “Big bad Hokage going to torture it out of me?”

“I think you’d like that too much,” Asuma says, and hauls him up, one hand in his hair, one hand curled in the collar of his shirt. Throws him forward, and Hidan yelps as he stumbles into the Hokage's desk, falls over it only to have a hand settle on the back of his head, holding him there.

“Over your desk?” Hidan laughs, not able to keep up the game in the face of this new development, and rocks back, pressing his ass against the bulge in Asuma's pants. “Shit, you’ve been thinking about this.”

“Every day,” Asuma agrees, darkly amused, and leans over him. Teeth skim the back of Hidan's neck, dragging a gasp from him, and then there's the hiss of a blade through fabric, a give. Hidan's shirt is dragged away a moment later, and Hidan makes a sound of offense, doesn’t bother trying to make it convincing.

“Hey, you fucker, my _clothes_—”

“I’ll just dress you in mine,” Asuma says, perfectly careless, and Hidan's next laugh comes out breathless.

“What, want me wandering around in just your shirt?” he taunts. “Bare ass ready for you whenever you want it?”

Deft hands undo his belt, tug his pants down and very deliberately cup his ass. “Don’t act like the idea bothers you,” Asuma tells him, and when Hidan tries to kick him, he grabs his hair again, pinning him in place. “You're the one who showed up at my office without underwear.”

“Can't fit ‘em under these jeans,” Hidan lies, and from Asuma's snort he knows it. Kicking him in the ankle, Hidan growls at him, and snaps, “Get the fuck on with it, bitch. I’ve been fucking waiting for this for a shitty fucking _month_—_oh_.”

Two slicked fingers deep in him, Asuma hums, amused and _wicked_. “Staging a coup isn't exactly easy,” he retorts, and curls over Hidan's back, kissing the curve of his throat, then setting the edge of his teeth against Hidan's skin. Hidan groans, shoving back, trying to get the slow, lazy drag of Asuma's fingers to actually fucking _stretch_ him, and—

A sharp bite splinters bright-hot pain across Hidan's nerves, and he yelps, jerks. Asuma is big, though, heavy, and all his weight is on Hidan, pinning him in place as he squirms. Slowly, soothingly, he kisses the bite, laves it with his tongue, and Hidan shudders, moans. Sinks down against the desk, breathing hard, and laughs even though he can't quite catch his breath.

“Shithead,” he accuses, and Asuma makes a sound of pleased acknowledgement, the scrape of his beard as he lays a slow, steady trail of kisses up Hidan's throat.

“You like me anyway,” he murmurs, and draws back just slightly. There's the click of a belt being undone, and Hidan shudders in anticipation. Not much lube, barely any stretching, but Asuma's already getting his cock out, and _this _is fucking what Hidan wanted the whole way to Konoha. Asuma's a bastard, rough and teasing at the same time, fucking _vicious_ about getting what he wants, and Hidan's never fucked a guy who hits all of his buttons so thoroughly before.

“I like you _because_ you're so shitty,” Hidan laughs, but it breaks into a moan when the thick head of Asuma's cock touches his hole. Asuma's beard scrapes down his spine, a prickle that raises goosebumps all down Hidan's arms, and he groans in frustration, squirms. “Fucking _do something_, what the fuck—ah!”

“I don’t think prisoners are in any position to be demanding,” Asuma says, but it’s winded, rough. Hidan can’t answer; Asuma's cock is splitting him open, pressing in and in and in, inexorable as he pushes forward at the slowest fucking pace possible, and Hidan can’t even _move_. All of Asuma's weight is on him, his pants are tangled around his ankles, and the burn of that big cock invading him _aches_, curls down his cock and up through his gut. He can't get away from it, can't lean into it, has to just lie there and _take it_ as Asuma pushes in. Every inch is a struggle as he tries to twist, tries to buck, and comes up against the immovable weight of Asuma on top of him and the harsh grip on his hair.

By the time Asuma bottoms out, Hidan is practically incoherent, gasping against the wood of the desk, trembling, twitching. He whimpers when fingers slide around his obscenely stretched hole, testing like they're going to push inside, can't come up with the breath to curse at Asuma, can't _think_ with the thick weight impaling him, so deep it feels like there’s no room in him for anything else.

Gently, slowly, the hand in his hair eases. “Good,” Asuma says, and kisses the edge of his mouth. “Good boy.”

Hidan closes his eyes, shudders, can't stop the whine that breaks from his throat. “Oh _fuck_,” he manages, gasped out on a breath. “Oh _shit,_ who the fuck gave you the right to have a cock like that?”

Asuma laughs against his shoulder, lays a kiss there. “You like my cock,” he says, and then he’s pulling back. Hidan _yowls_, too much movement too soon, just the way he likes, and Asuma fucking _knows._ He slams home, driving in so hard that Hidan's vision swims with spots, and it’s too much, too hard, too raw. Asuma didn’t stretch him enough, barely slicked him, and Hidan shoves back into it, tries to get leverage but can't and _snarls_.

And then, like that was a signal, Asuma stops. He buries himself in Hidan's body, then stays there, and Hidan wants to sob, wants to wrench back, wants to tear his throat out. he squirms, all the movement he’s capable of, and it shifts the cock in him but _not enough_.

“Fucker,” he snarls. “You fucking shitty fucker, fucking _fuck me_—”

There’s a maddening chuckle against his skin. “I don’t think a prisoner gets to order me around,” Asuma says, and rolls his hips, making Hidan shout as pleasure shatters up his spine. “You're going to be a good prisoner, though, aren’t you, Hidan?”

Hidan doesn’t have the breath for a laugh, groans and kicks Asuma in the ankle to try and get another thrust. “Going to chain me up in your room?” he retorts. “Nice little fucking bedwarmer always ready for your cock?”

The rasp of Asuma's breath is gratifying. “Any time you want to spend all day in bed,” he says lowly, “I’ll spend it with you. Wouldn’t want to leave you alone too long.”

Hidan snickers, loses it on a hitching gasp as a thumb presses tight against his hole. Teases there, and Hidan whimpers as it slides in, just the edge opening him up wider.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, _please_.”

A hand curves around his hip, tightens. “I'm going to fuck you,” Asuma says roughly. “And you're going to take it, Hidan. I'm going to _make you_.”

Hidan shudders, gasps. _Wants it_, so fucking badly, and he jerks back, tries to grind down on Asuma's cock but is held maddeningly still by that hand on him. “Bastard,” he gets out. “Fucking _shithead_, do it—”

A thrust jars the words from his throat, breaks them into a cry. Hard, rough, and Asuma pins him to the desk and shoves up and in, burying himself so deep that Hidan's voice cracks into a scream. There’s no moment to adjust, no second to brace himself; even as he sucks in a breath Asuma drags his cock out all the way to the head, shoves back in all the way to the hilt, and he’s _too fucking big_, too much to take all at once. Hidan wails, feels the impact in his gut and the burning drag as Asuma withdraws, the sudden, wrenching _fullness_ as Asuma drives back in.

With a grunt, Asuma curls over him, digs his fingers into his hips until they're definitely going to bruise. Fucks him brutally, every thrust enough to knock the breath from Hidan's lungs, and Hidan can't get leverage, can't get a grip. Can't even dig his fingers into the desk to brace himself, and it makes the pleasure sharper, hotter, more overwhelming. A sharp hitch of Asuma's hips drives the next thrust right over the spot inside him that makes him shout, and with a satisfied huff Asuma does it again, again, again.

Hidan _howls_, shakes as each pounding thrust right over his prostate sinks claws into his gut, painful pleasure that’s too much, too fast. He kicks, not trying to stop Asuma, just trying to _move_, to get away from it, to get _more_, and his next breath breaks from him on a sob as Asuma shoves all the way in. holds there, just long enough for Hidan to feel the girth of him, the stretch, and then draws back.

When hands catch his bound arms, haul him up and back, Hidan can't even begin to protest.

With a shout, he sinks down on Asuma's cock, sits down hard right in Asuma's lap, perfectly impaled, and the burning bite of pleasure is so intense he curls forward, trembling, _aching_. It’s a dark thing, full of teeth climbing his spine, and he gasps for breath, shivers.

“Lazy,” Asuma says, and there’s no give in that tone. He grips Hidan's arm, bracing him, and rolls his hips up pointedly. A moment later, Hidan's hands come free, and Asuma sets them on the arms of the chair. “If you want my cock so badly, ride me.”

Hidan groans, the unyielding edge to Asuma's voice curling though his chest like a blow. His cock is so hard it _hurts_, bobbing between his thighs, and his pants are still tangled around his ankles, but he pushes up, can't get more than halfway up Asuma's shaft before he sinks back down. Rocks up, as far as he can, and groans in frustration when it’s not _enough_.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, and Asuma chuckles, presses a kiss behind his ear. Stubbornly, Hidan pushes up again, shakes a foot free of his jeans and pulls it up, hooking his foot around the arm of the chair. The next thrust is easier, and when Hidan sinks back this time it’s with a cry of relief. Asuma's hands grip his hips, and his next thrust is cut short as Asuma _drags_ him back down his cock. Pushes him up, hauls him back, and Hidan shouts as his foot slips off the chair. He’s shoved up, jolted forward, dragged back down. It’s _deep_ like this, too deep, and there’s still not enough leverage. The angle is sharp, twists pleasure up like a vice inside him, and Asuma holds him in his lap and fucks him until Hidan is wailing and twisting and jerking with it, fighting his hold just to feel the iron grip Asuma has on him.

Making him take it. that’s what this is, Hidan thinks desperately, clawing at Asuma's hands with a cry as Asuma slams into him. Too much, too much, and he feels Asuma's short, breathless cry as one hard thrust sinks his cock deep.

“Take it,” Asuma breathes in his ear, and Hidan shakes and cries and claws at him, unable to come without a hand on his cock. “Take it, come on, _come_.”

“Please,” Hidan begs, and Asuma's cock drives right into the center of him, sends pain-pleasure-_heat_ crashing across his nerves. “Please, fuck you, _please_!”

“Fuck,” Asuma gasps, and gets a fist around Hidan's dick. Pulls up, one hard stroke as he forces Hidan all the way down on his cock, split open wide, and Hidan howls and comes, a gut-wrenching release that practically shatters through him. He shudders and arches and clenches down hard, and Asuma grunts. Topples him forward, sprawling over the desk, and bites down on his shoulder as he slams into him, hard, desperate thrusts as he chases his own release. Hidan sobs, squirms, oversensitive and aching with it, but Asuma shoves his head down, groans, and bottoms out with one last bruising thrust. Holds himself there as he comes, and Hidan can't do anything but shiver, groaning, as the heat of Asuma's release fills him.

For a long, breathless moment, Asuma stays where he is, heavy and warm sprawled across Hidan's back. Then, carefully, he pushes up on one elbow, skims a hand down Hidan's side, and asks, “Okay?”

Hidan groans, face still mashed into the wood, entirely content to never move again. “Fuck,” he says. “Fucking _shit_, I fucking missed you.”

Asuma laughs, rough, and kisses the curve of Hidan's spine, the tickle of his beard making Hidan twitch. “Me or my dick?” he asks. The momentary tightening of his grip on Hidan's hip is warning enough for Hidan to brace himself, and a moment later Asuma drags his softening cock free. It makes Hidan hiss, suddenly too empty, stretched out and aching, but Asuma pulls him up with gentle hands, eases him back, and settles on the floor under the window with Hidan in his lap.

“One’s attached to the other, isn't it?” Hidan retorts, but he doesn’t have the energy to do more than settle there, head on Asuma's shoulders, eyes slipping closed.

“Not too rough?” Asuma asks, and a hand rubs against the small of Hidan's back, slow, soothing strokes.

“Fuck you, that was fucking _fantastic_,” Hidan says into his shirt. “Totally fucking worth helping you take over your village.”

“A sanctioned overturn of power,” Asuma corrects mildly, and tips Hidan's chin up. Kisses him, careful and slow and soft, hand tight around the back of his neck, and it feels like everything in Hidan's head is just a little easier to deal with, the need to fight, to kill, to sacrifice just a little quieter right now.

Hidan's pretty sure Jashin likes Asuma. Likes all the bodies he’s promised in return for their help, too, and normally Hidan would stay out of wars, but—

Asuma's in the middle of this one, with the clans in his village yelling about their rights after the near-massacre of the Uchiha, with Kumo breathing down his neck, with Suna up in arms and Iwa sniffing around the borders. If he gets himself killed, it’d be a waste of a great dick, and Hidan doesn’t want to lose the first great fuck he’s had in a while.

“So we going to tell that bodyguard of yours I'm actually your boyfriend?” he asks, not really caring about the answer.

Asuma hums, lazy, and says, “I think he’ll figure it out eventually.”

“You're such a bitch,” Hidan laughs, and shivers when the hand on the back of his neck tightens just a little.

“Yeah,” Asuma says, and it’s that languid, self-assured cockiness Hidan can't fucking get enough of. “But I've got it on good authority that that’s what you like about me.”

Hidan kisses him, because the only alternative is to stab him, and he wants to get laid again tonight.


End file.
